


Predisposition for Disaster

by alikuu



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Ambiguous Relationships, Codependency, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dysfunctional Relationships, Emotional Manipulation, First Time, Forbidden Love, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Incest, Intimacy, Jealousy, Light Angst, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Oral Sex, Pining, Pseudo-Father/Son Incest, Pseudo-Incest, Reversed Power Dynamics, Seduction, Sharing a Bed, Sibling Incest, Snarky Remarks, Stockholm Syndrome, Voice Kink, age/experience differences, generally fucked-up and unhealthy relationships, unrequited love that isn’t actually unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-04 16:19:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11558901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alikuu/pseuds/alikuu
Summary: Elrond keeps his forbidden crush on Maglor a secret until he finds out that his guardian intends to send him away.Warnings: Heed the tags, slash, pseudo-father/son incest





	Predisposition for Disaster

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sleepless_Malice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sleepless_Malice/gifts).



> For all: The main pairing of this fic is Maglor/Elrond, so prepare for some graphic pseudo-father/son incest. 
> 
> Although I tagged this as Maedhros/Maglor this pairing is just hinted and slash only if you want it to be.
> 
> For Sleepless_Malice: Hey! I fell in love with all of your prompts! I could have picked any of them, they were all so tempting, but since it was such a hard choice I just ran with the very top of the list XD   
> I hope you like the story - I tried to keep as close as possible to the prompt, but the story kind of took a direction of its own at some point. Anyway, I hope you like it <3

That evening Maglor was due to be back in Amon Ereb after nearly two months of absence. Elros didn’t seem to care overly much, but Elrond was anxious for the Fëanorion’s return to the gloomy and crumbling hill fortress. Even as their tutor drawled on, the young half-elf perched on the sill of one of the arched windows of the library, the tome of Quenya verses opened and gathering dust in his lap as he looked out for Maglor’s small party to appear from the surrounding woods. 

Finally he spotted the tell-tale dark figures appearing on the muddy dirt road in the distance, exiting the shadows of an overhanging rain cloud into a patch of blinding sunlight. The fabric of their banner was visible enough to be recognizable as the silver Fëanorian star set on black, and Elrond lept up from his seat, dropped the book and went running out of the library. He heard his Quenya teacher calling after him, but he couldn’t have cared less - Maglor was soon to be at the gates and Elrond couldn’t wait another moment to see him.

He ran through the busy courtyard, avoiding deep puddles of grey rain water, and then down to the keep, darting his way through the ranks of the Fëanorian soldiers training in the cool afternoon sun. His long legs took him to the gate just in time as it opened to receive the younger Fëanorion lord, but to Elrond’s dismay, the elder of the brothers had gotten there first.

Maedhros stood impossibly tall and imposing, and seeing him drove a spike of jealousy through the half-elf’s gut. Maglor rode in ahead of the column and greeted his brother, whose towering height and red hair overshadowed Elrond’s presence completely. Maedhros made one of those rare stiff-lipped grimaces that passed for smiles for him, and Maglor hopped off his steed lightly, striding straight into his older brother’s maimed embrace. 

Grinding his teeth, Elrond approached, getting in line just beside Maedhros’ elbow. Once Maglor looked up from where he had rested his cheek on the grey furs that kept Maedhros’ mangled right shoulder warm in the brisk weather, Maglor’s uncannily bright eyes landed on him and lit up with pleasure.

“Elrond!” 

Hearing his name in that indescribable voice made Elrond weak in the knees. Maglor was barely out of his brother’s arms when Elrond threw himself in his guardian’s embrace. Maedhros backed away, presumably to greet the remaining soldiers. Elrond paid him no heed, nor cared where he went as long as he was gone and Maglor’s attention was fully on him. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be having a lesson?” Maglor reprimanded lightly, patting Elrond on the back.

Elrond wanted to stay like that forever - he had yearned for that embrace for two long moons, but Maglor was stepping away and Elrond had to let him go. When he looked up he saw the second Fëanorion’s fond smile beaming down on him.

“I couldn’t wait to see you,” Elrond confessed and at that Maglor’s expression warmed even more, lighting up Elrond’s world like the long-missed southern sun. 

Despite the warmth in his heart, Elrond shivered, and he had to close his eyes when his guardian bowed his head to kiss his forehead. 

“And your brother?” Maglor asked, stepping away and beckoning Elrond to follow him across the courtyard.

“He’s still upstairs - studying, I suppose,” Elrond informed him, following alongside Maglor.

“Elros being the responsible one, while you abandon one of your favourite lessons...” Maglor mused. “Much seems to have changed in my short absence. And -”

His guardian paused on the wide, stone steps that lead up to the keep to look Elrond up and down. Elrond preened at the appraising attention, feeling his cheeks flush.

“-is it my imagination or you have grown taller still?” Maglor chuckled and put his long-fingered, musician’s hand on Elrond’s shoulder. The touch didn’t linger and many layers of thick clothing separated them, but Elrond felt it sear him to the very core. 

Goosebumps still ran down his back and arms by the time they got to Maglor’s chambers. Along the way they chatted about the time that the Fëanorion had missed - how the twins’ lessons were going, had anything of interest happened, what had they learned… His guardian asked questions and Elrond answered until they ran out of stories from the fortress and Elrond inquired intelligently about the success of Maglor’s trip. 

The younger of the two Fëanorion lords had traveled to their closest neighbours to bargain for grain and other supplies that the camp sorely needed for the quickly approaching winter. Maglor assured him that the negotiations had went well and that there was little for Elrond to worry about in those matters.

“You and your brother should concern yourselves only with your studies,” Maglor told him as he opened the door of his chamber, already well-aired and with the hearth alight to welcome the returning lord. “Matters of provisions are for Maedhros and I to think about.”

“You treat me like a child,” Elrond complained, sitting on the high-back chair by Maglor’s desk. While Elros might have just straddled the back, Elrond turned it around to face the room and sat in it with his legs neatly together as he watched his guardian unpack a travel sack.

“That’s because you are one,” Maglor smiled up at him, while rummaging through his wrapped belongings. “Do not throw this time away - no one can give you back the careless years of childhood.”

Elrond suppressed a sigh. His childhood had been far from careless, but he wasn't about to ruin his guardian’s rare good mood with morose reminders of how the twins had come to be in his care. Instead he contented himself to watch the fall of Maglor’s long dark hair as his guardian kneeled on the floor. Finally Maglor found what he was looking for and he stood to present a little velvet pouch to Elrond.

“For you and Elros,” Maglor beamed.

Realising that he was being given a gift, Elrond received the velvet pouch gratefully and eagerly opened the strings to see the contents.

“Impatient today, aren’t you?” Maglor laughed and the inciting deep sound of it resonated through Elrond to a warm tremor in his belly. “Maybe you should wait for your brother?”

“He should have been here to welcome you,” Elrond disagreed, while privately glad that Elros hadn't come so he could enjoy the rare occasion of having Maglor all to himself.

Elrond pulled out a set of seven beautiful ceramic dice, each with a different number of sides and decoratively coloured in bright hues to mark their different significance.

“What are these?” Elrond’s eyebrows scrunched together in incomprehension.

“They are for a game which the Avari children play,” Maglor explained coming over to stand behind Elrond’s left shoulder and pluck one out from the youth’s opened palm. The proximity of the older elf burned like a bonfire and Elrond felt himself begin to sweat.

“I thought that you and your brother might enjoy playing it.” Maglor dropped the die in Elrond’s palm before gently closing the half-elf’s fingers over the gift. “I could teach you how.”

Elrond bit his lip and pretended to inspect the dice in his hand carefully just to hide his raging blush behind the fall of his hair.

Maglor ushered him out of his room soon after, saying that he needed to freshen up after his journey and bidding Elrond tell his brother that on that night they would dine together in the Great Hall like a family, so he expected them to appear presentable and on time.

…

Dinner came and the twins sat at the long high table beside the two lords of Amon Ereb.

Maedhros and Maglor were engaged with each other, discussing trade and supplies. Elros was staring sullenly at some point in the mid distance, chewing on a piece of venison with such boredom, one would think the fortress was welcoming its lord every other day and rich meals with meat were served as a rule in the Fëanorian household.

Elrond, for his part, was at his best behaviour, sitting with his back straight and cutting his meat into neat little pieces which he placed into his mouth with a delicacy to match his guardian’s princely manners, while listening intently to the conversation of the Fëanorians.

Elros reached for the decanter to refill his wine goblet and Maglor reached over Elrond to put his hand on Elros’ cup.

“No more!” 

Maglor’s fatherly tone heeded no argument, but Elros, who still hadn't grown out of his rebellious phase, frowned and spat:

“Maedhros let me have as much as I wanted while you were gone!”

At that Maglor’s mood darkened and he turned to his brother who looked perfectly unphased by the bard’s anger.

“You allowed the children to drink while I was gone?”

“I saw no harm in it,” the red-haired Fëanorion shrugged. “They are grown enough.”

“They might be grown but they certainty aren't old enough,” Maglor hissed and the iciness of his tone made the servers back away from the table and unpleasant chills run down Elrond’s back, despite knowing that Maglor’s rage was not directed at him.

“At their age menfolk are-” Maedhros begun but was quickly interrupted by Maglor.

“They are not menfolk! They are half elves and elves of their age aren’t allowed to drink more than one cup.”

For a long moment the brothers simply stared each other down and it was that tension that Elrond hated more than any argument of words or even blows between them; the same furious energy that brought them together even as it should have propelled them apart, and because of it Elrond hated Maedhros. No one else seemed to have the power to provoke Maglor like his marred brother could - not even Elrond and Elros, whom Maglor considered his sons.

“We will discuss this later,” was all Maedhros said, and it was delivered in such a flat, soft tone that Elrond strained to hear it.

But hearing it caused something terrible to twist in his stomach and when he looked over to Elros, their eyes met and the knowledge that it was going to be one of those nights passed between them with uncomfortable certainty.

...

Maglor said goodnight to them, kissing each one on the head before standing up to leave after Maedhros, who had stood from the table upon finishing his evening meal without another word.

Elrond’s hand shot up on its own and caught Maglor’s wrist before the dark-haired Fëanorion could walk away. When Maglor raised a questioning eyebrow at him, Elrond struggled to form an explanation.

“Stay a bit?” he pleaded scarcely above a breath. “We have missed you.”

The corners of Maglor’s wide, sensitive mouth softened at those words. Deep down inside, Elrond knew that he shouldn't be seeing those little details about his surrogate father, but it didn't stop his eyes lingering for a moment too long. The Fëanorion didn't seem to notice his little lapse of attention.

“We can spend time together tomorrow. It's your day off from lessons and I could use some rest after my journey,” Maglor promised, carding his talented hand through Elrond’s black hair.

“But what about tonight?” Elrond asked helplessly and couldn't hide the rasp in his voice as he gazed up at the older elf’s attractive face. 

“I need to talk to my brother,” Maglor replied. “We still have a lot to discuss. I will see you on the morrow, boys.” 

Again Maglor kissed the top of his head and then moved to Elros to give him the same treatment. Then he was gone.

Elrond looked after him for a long moment, watching his back disappear behind the turn of a scarcely lit corridor. 

When he turned to Elros, he saw the mild look of disgust in his twin’s identical grey eyes. Elrond couldn't guess his own expression, but it could have been anything from wary distress to green jealousy.

“No point trying to stop him,” Elros said, the words twisting the knife in Elrond’s gut.

“I wish Maglor wouldn't waste his time on him. Surely he could have anyone he wanted.” Elrond said under his breath, even though the strange intimacy between the two Fëanorions was hardly a secret in Amon Ereb.

“And whom do you have in mind?” Elros answered Elrond’s quiet words that had not been meant for him or anyone else. “You?”

Elrond whipped around to glare at his brother.

“Hold your tongue, Elros!” 

“Or what? Are you afraid he's going to find out?” Elros teased, throwing a pea at Elrond’s head, while Elrond was blushing red and on the verge of throwing a punch in return. “My poor love-struck idiot brother - you don't stand a chance.”

“And what if I do?” Elrond hissed between thinning lips. 

“I'd like to see that happen,” Elros raised an eyebrow.

“I have something that Maedhros doesn’t,” Elrond argued.

“If you are going to say a right hand...” Elros pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Compassion,” Elrond interrupted him, “purity of heart and a clean consciousness.”

“I am not certain those exact qualities would help you bond with your chosen one,” Elros retorted. “Maedhros might have an advantage there.”

“Now you are forcing me to say it!" Elrond slapped his forehead irritably. "Yes, I have two hands and I am not scarred.” 

“But Maglor thinks of us as his sons,” Elros pointed out.

“As if something like that would stop him.”

“You got a point there,” his twin sighed a little boredly. “So, what are you going to do?”

Elrond took a deep breath and thought about it. 

“I'm going to go to him tonight,” he vowed quietly.

“Oh,” Elros raised an eyebrow looking vaguely impressed. “You know he's likely to be in Maedhros’ bed all night, right?”

“I don't care,” Elrond grumbled.

“Just don't expect me to dry your tears in the end,” Elros’ smile was a devious thing. 

“I don’t need your sympathy,” Elrond huffed back. “And it might just be Maedhros that you'll have to comfort.”

Elros laughed so hard he choked.

…

All his earlier bravado had been a pretence, of course, and several long hours passed until Elrond gathered the courage to leave the bedroom he still shared with his twin.

Elros was asleep and therefore did not make any more less-than-encouraging remarks as Elrond slipped out of his bed and threw on his boots and cape over his loose-fitting sleeping gown and padded out of the door and into the drafty corridors of Amon Ereb. 

Against all hope Elrond checked his guardian’s own bedroom first. When no one answered the knock on the door, he took a deep breath and steeled himself for the real battle.

Maedhros’ door was one that the twins rarely ever approached under any circumstances. At first they had been afraid of the strange red-haired elf, with a face covered in pale scars and eyes that burned with a macabre white light.

Later when they had learned that Maedhros had no intention of hurting them, they still had felt like an inconvenience to him - their presence he tolerated but it was clear he only suffered them for his brother’s benefit.

Once they had grown sufficiently, Maedhros had begun to show some distant sort of interest in the twins, or perhaps Maglor had finally convinced him to pay attention to them by tutoring some of their classes and teaching them the sword and other weapons. 

Elros’ dream was to beat Maedhros to the ground, “killing him as revenge for Sirion,” he would always add. As for Maglor, not even Elros could hate him enough to wish him dead. “He can live - his miserable existence is punishment enough,” Elros would say, but Elrond was not a fool and he didn't believe in the ruthlessness that Elros was trying to portray. He didn't even think that his twin would slay Maedhros if he got the chance. If Elros ever won in those sparring matches he challenged Maedhros to, he was unlikely to do anything but offer the red-haired Fëanorion a hand to get up.

But Maedhros during the day, dressed in his grim way - with the thick woollen robes, furs and curated leather armour that made him look like a walking fortress in his ridiculous height - was significantly less threatening than Maedhros at night, dressed in the same, excluding the armour, but wearing the weight of a terrible, dark temper that he was ready to unleash on anyone who crossed him.

Having to deal with him in his own domain was a task worthy of legendary heroes, but to get to Maglor Elrond was willing to do anything. 

So he stood before the heavy wooden door of Fëanor’s formidable eldest son, ready to launch his assault.

But first, the young half-elf laid an ear on the wooden surface and listened. There was nothing but a quiet conversation on the other side, which was a good sign - they were not doing anything untoward and they were awake. As good a time as any to interrupt…

Steeling himself, Elrond rapped on the door. 

There was a pause during which nothing happened and to Elrond it felt like an eternity of anxious waiting before the door opened. 

When it finally did, it was Maglor that appeared, dressed in a long nightshirt that reached his calves.

Elrond’s eyes dipped down to take in the way the loose material draped from Maglor’s broad shoulders down his elegant form. He looked… a little thinner than Elrond remembered from the last time he had seen him so undressed. Maglor hadn't shared a bed with the twins since their limbs had grown out and they had begun to grow hair beneath their armpits, something that signalled their maturity, according to Maedhros, who seemed to think himself some kind of an expert on Man-kind.

That had been years ago. Since then the tender trepidation Elrond had felt for Maglor had grown to lust and seeing the long lines and hard planes of his body, hazardously outlined by the loose drapes of his nightshirt, made Elrond’s loins stir inconveniently. Self-consciously he pulled the edges of his cloak around himself.

“Elrond, what are you doing out of bed so late at night?” Maglor frowned at him. 

“Can I please sleep with you tonight, _Father_?” Elrond asked as innocently as he could, emphasising Maglor’s favorite term of endearment.

As always, it seemed to work: Maglor’s expression softened, but still he looked Elrond from head to toe a little dubiously.

“You are getting too old for that. Maedhros was right - you have mixed blood and at the moment there is no way to tell if you are more elven or mannish in some matters,” Maglor said thoughtfully.

“But I missed you terribly and I didn't get to see you much today,” Elrond complained evoking the most childish mannerism he could muster. “Please Father, I just want to be near you.”

Maglor sighed and looked over his shoulder inside the room, no doubt exchanging a look with Maedhros, whom Elrond couldn't see but knew was in there.

The moment stretched and became uncomfortably long, but finally Maglor turned back to him and stepped aside to let him in.

Once in Maedhros’ room, Elrond’s eyes quickly scanned the surroundings. He had been there only a few times in all the long years he had lived in Amon Ereb, yet not much had changed about the first-born Feanorion’s chambers. The rooms were still somewhat barren and unwelcoming despite the warmth and glow of a fire, which Maglor had no doubt started. Maedhros just didn't give off the vibe of someone who cared for small things like that.

Finally, Elrond spotted the flash of copper hair over cushions in the dim light of the fire, and the owner of those striking locks, sprawled on the large bed, half-covered in tangled sheets. Elrond averted his eyes before he saw anything that he didn't wish to witness, but as he approached the bed following Maglor, the tall red-haired elf rose to a seated position.

Maedhros was still wearing the woollen tunic and pants, which he wore under his armour during the day. The tired smudges under Maedhros’ eyes, coupled with his attire, made Elrond hopeful that he might have come before Maglor had spent his passion for the night. That left a lot of interesting possibilities if only Elrond could figure out a way to get him out of Maedhros’ room...

“Come here,” Maglor invited softly, sitting on the other side of the bed and tapping the mattress.

“You first,” Elrond said. “I don't want to be in the middle.”

Maedhros let out an abrupt huff of amusement that was so unexpected that it startled Elrond. Maglor frowned again but agreed to slide to the middle of the large bed and tapped the empty side of the mattress beside him. Elrond approached, eyeing Maedhros like some sort of a wild animal, and was not surprised to be eyed in return as he encroached on the larger elf’s most private territory. He had never heard Maedhros give his acquiescence for Elrond to sleep in his bed that night, but if Maglor had invited him, Elrond had to believe he was safe.

With a frustrated exhale Maedhros got up from the bed and headed towards the pile of sloppily folded upper layers of his attire.

“Nelyo, stay!” Maglor called after him.

“Oh, but I'd rather leave you to it,” Maedhros answered caustically and he shot Elrond such a gaze, that for a moment the youth was afraid that it saw straight through him, revealing every dirty little desire hidden inside his heart.

Elrond swallowed hard but sat a little straighter on the edge of the bed just as Maedhros put on his boots and headed for the door.

“Just remember what I told you earlier,” Maedhros warned before he left. “You are not doing anyone any favours.”

“I haven't forgotten,” Maglor replied softly and nodded to his brother as Maedhros left the room.

“Oh well. It's just you and me then,” Maglor sighed and lifted the covers for Elrond.

Elrond dipped under the sheets, slipping off his cloak only once he was halfway covered by the heavy bedspread. He lied down fully beside Maglor and couldn’t help but notice the overpowering scent of Maedhros, which clung to the sheets around them. He curled on his side closer to Maglor, briefly burying his face in the Fëanorion’s hair and inhaling the sweet, clean scent which he so dearly loved. If Maglor noticed any strangeness, he didn’t give any indication and Elrond nuzzled his cheek on Maglor’s shoulder.

 _Finally alone_ , he thought, resting the palm of his hand on the flat of the older elf’s stomach somewhat possessively. When no protests were voiced, Elrond dared to play with the front placket of Maglor’s nightshirt a little. His fingers traced the edge and lightly flickered in the gaps between buttons, brushing against Maglor’s smooth skin almost entirely by accident. 

Elrond retracted his fingers before he could get carried away and smoothed the fabric over Maglor’s stomach innocently.

Maglor remained calm, his breathing long and even, while Elrond struggled to keep his heart in check as desire made the front of his night gown tent. He pressed himself a little tighter to Maglor’s side, careful not to let his hardened prick touch Maglor’s hip. 

As if sensing his need, Maglor wrapped an arm around Elrond and pulled the youth into a tighter embrace, turning his head to press a lingering kiss to Elrond’s forehead.

Elrond’s last inhibitions were crumbling. The tickle of Maglor’s breath against his hair and the intoxicating knowledge that they were alone, in Maedhros’ room - the one place where almost nothing in the world would dare to disturb without good cause - made Elrond ache to do something. He needed to find a way to get Maglor out of that damned nightshirt...

Elrond’s hand slid up Maglor’s chest until his fingers came to play with the buttons of his collar.

“Aren’t you warm?” He asked innocently as he popped the first small button of Maglor’s nightshirt.

“Hmmm,” the noise Maglor made was meant to be a low one, but the bard’s voice was just not meant for clandestine whispering, and the rumble of his chest was powerful enough to send vibrations through Elrond’s entire body. It felt nice. Even nicer when Maglor laughed.

“Yes, a little,” the Fëanorion said. “You are burning like a furnace against me.” 

Maglor’s fingers came up to replace Elrond’s and he unbuttoned the first few buttons at the top of his shirt, exposing a good stretch of his pale flesh. Elrond’s mouth went dry. 

“Are you warm?” Maglor asked, sitting up a little and propping himself on an elbow to look over Elrond’s slightly smaller form. “Do you want to take this thing off?”

His tone reminded Elrond of the times when he and his brother had been small enough for Maglor to run after them, changing their shirts when they got too sweaty from chasing each other around the fortress. 

The memories of that time should have made him resent the lust that he harboured, but somehow it didn’t. He nodded in response to Maglor’s question and lifted his arms up like a child to allow his guardian to pull the long night gown over his head. The sheets and the shadows of the fire-light masked his utter nakedness and his state of arousal. Maglor did not ask or check if he wore anything underneath, so Elrond curled up naked beside him beneath the sheets.

The older elf combed back his sweat-damp hair out of his face and smoothed it over the pillows lovingly. Elrond bit his lip in anticipation, playing with the idea of simply reaching up to kiss Maglor, but hesitated for a moment too long and missed his chance.

Maglor pulled away and lied down on his back. Elrond felt the loss almost physically even though his guardian tucked an arm under his neck and wrapped it around the youth’s bare shoulder. Under the covers, Elrond’s skin was brushing Maglor’s nightshirt. The heat he felt in the scarce space between them was driving him insane. He rubbed his thighs together in an attempt to ease the urgency in his loins but the action only jostled his erection, making him crave touch even more.

He swallowed hard before placing his hand on Maglor’s chest, right over the elf’s exposed sternum. Maglor allowed him to trace the pale, hairless skin there without so much as a murmur of discomfort and Elrond grew bolder. Spurred on by desire and recklessness, he traced each of Maglor’s collarbones and even further than that, he ran his fingers over the elf’s long neck, feeling the steady pulse and lean sinew beneath Maglor’s skin. 

His guardian sighed in contentment, the sound stroking the fires in Elrond’s gut higher, and the youth couldn’t suppress a whine of painful yearning as he turned his face and buried it in Maglor’s hair once more.

“What’s wrong?” Maglor asked softly. The soft tresses of his dark hair caressed Elrond’s face and were soon joined by Maglor’s strong fingers, rubbing little soothing circles over Elrond’s exposed shoulder. “Why are you so restless, my son?”

“Do you think Maedhros would begrudge you the love of another?” Elrond asked quietly, trying to keep his emotions from his tone.

“Begrudge me? What makes you say that?” Maglor frowned but Elrond only shrugged.

“No, I don’t think my brother would begrudge me love, if I found any.” Maglor chuckled a little sadly. “But I don’t believe there are others in this world besides you and Elros who’d care for the likes of us anymore.” Maglor tenderly smoothed Elrond’s hair once again. “Although, sometimes I think it’s cruel to wish for your love as well.”

“And yet you have it,” Elrond vowed with conviction. “But he resents it, doesn’t he?”

“Not because he begrudges me this happiness,” Maglor assured. “It’s for your own good that he thinks that we should have sent you back to your cousin the High King long ago.”

Those words made Elrond’s heart nearly come to a halt.

“You are not talking about sending us away, right?!” he blurted out, fists suddenly desperately clutching the lapels of his guardian’s nightshirt.

“Oh, no, my dear one,” Maglor laughed softly and wrapped both arms around Elrond, pulling him closer into a full embrace. Elrond’s prick gave a little pang of excitement when it pressed against Maglor’s side, but the contact was brief and went unnoticed by the older elf. “That’s not what we were discussing tonight, although the question comes up from time to time. And whether I like it or not, one day we would have to say goodbye. You are old enough to understand this now. Maedhros is right, you and Elros are no longer the children I sometimes wish you to be. You are growing up and I know that if you think a little, you would understand that it isn't from lack of love that Maedhros insists on that, and it isn't from a lack of love that I know that someday it will have to happen.”

“No!” Elrond shook his head, tears clouding his eyes. “You say I am old enough to understand, but don’t you even consider that I might be old enough to choose!?”

“Elrond,” Maglor’s tone was soft, but the warning was there. “I know I'm not your real father, but I have loved you and your brother as my own sons, and with that I believe I have earned some privileges, such as deciding what’s best for you. My own father continued to make choices for my brothers and I long after we had reached our majority.”

“Your father -” Elrond cut himself abruptly. There was no way that he could finish that sentence without gravely insulting Maglor.

“If you are thinking of sending us away, then there is something that I must speak to you about -” he began instead, a little shakily. His cheeks were once again flushing and he was trembling in Maglor’s loose embrace. 

“You can speak to me about anything,” Maglor encouraged, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. It did nothing to ease Elrond’s nerves.

“I…” he stuttered, then he drew in a deep breath, tightened his fist on Maglor’s nightshirt, afraid that his guardian might try to leave once he had heard his confession. “I have feelings for you,” he whispered barely above a breath.

“I love you,” Elrond elaborated when Maglor didn’t immediately react. “So, think about that before you decide to send me away. The love you want is right here for you and all you need to do is take it!”

“I love you too, Elrond, you and your brother both,” Maglor answered calmly, “and that’s why I need to send you away-”

“No, not like that!” Elrond shook his head miserably. “I mean…I’m in love with you.”

After uttering his confession, Elrond didn’t dare look Maglor in the eye. He stayed still, keeping his head pillowed on Maglor’s shoulder and listening to the disturbed breaths that rose and dipped Maglor’s chest at uneven intervals. 

“Elrond, I am…” Maglor began, for once completely at a loss of words. “You - you are too young- you don’t know of what you are speaking-”

“Too young?” Elrond didn't trust his voice above a whisper. “You said it yourself - there is no telling if I'm elvish or mannish in some matters.”

“Yes, but this-” Maglor protested, worry and shock warring in his halting speech. He sounded like he wanted to convince himself. “You are mistaking familial love with… something else. It's not your fault - how could you know any better - we have kept you and your brother here away from anyone your age… I-”

“Is that what you think?” Elrond asked wretchedly, feeling his eyes well up with tears. “And what do you call this?”

With those words, he recklessly flattened himself to Maglor’s side, letting his entire body press against his guardian’s and allowing Maglor a good sense of the straining hardness that had been there the entire time they had lain next to each other.

Maglor gasped and the sound of it sent a shiver down Elrond’s spine. 

So it was done. Maglor had felt how stiff he was for him, and there was no going back to how things were before.

Elrond expected Maglor to push him away, stand up from the bed, be angry or disgusted, but none of that happened. Instead Maglor remained where he was, only shrinking away from the touch of Elrond’s erection as he spoke very softly:

“Oh, Elrond, I don’t know how I have failed you so much as a father. I never meant for this to happen- I - please forgive me,” he spoke quickly. “Maedhros was right - I should have sent you and your brother away long ago…”

“No, Father, no!” Elrond seized his shoulders and shook him a little roughly. “Don’t send me away, I beg you! Just, please…”

Maglor seemed to gaze right through Elrond with the far away look in his eyes. 

“Just give me a chance, please!” Elrond cried.

“A chance to do what?” Maglor uttered and his voice was thick, grating lowly like the clunking of iron chains. “Allow you to ruin your life? _To evil end shall all things turn that begin well…_ ” 

Elrond knew that the tone was meant to influence him, but as a descendant of Thingol and Melian he had some powers of his own. The magic of Maglor’s voice could bend many to his will, but it had ceased to work on Elrond many years ago. 

Yet it wasn’t the unsuccessful attempt of mind-control that caught Elrond’s attention. It was the last part of Maglor’s grim speech - his guardian was reciting the curse of the Noldor, blaming himself for the perversion of Elrond’s lust. Elrond couldn’t stand for that.

“All I am asking for is a chance to love you the way you deserve to be loved,” Elrond uttered softly. 

Maglor was cold and unresponsive beside him, and in the lack of resistance Elrond found resolve. He let his hands drift to the buttons over Maglor’s chest once again and he looked at his guardian’s face for permission, fighting back the tears that were still gathering in the corners of his eyes. 

“Please, let me do that, Father,” he whispered. “Please let me!”

Maglor’s lips parted - he had always been weak when it came to resisting Elrond’s tears. The look of utter devastation that Elrond was giving him seemed to work enough that he didn’t immediately protest, and the youth began undoing his nightshirt with quick, precise movements beneath the cover of the sheets.

He couldn’t see what he was doing, his eyes still on Maglor’s face, holding his guardian’s glazed grey ones. His hands dipped low, working buttons over Maglor’s middle, and lower still until he felt the distinctive brush of warm flesh, soft and velvety to his touch. Even that tiny contact was enough to arouse him so much that he couldn’t continue - he surged forward and kissed Maglor’s pliant mouth, feeling its full lips cushion his as he pressed into the kiss. 

Maglor let out a little sigh, halfway between dismay and pleasure and it was by far the most erotic sound Elrond had ever heard.

Recklessly, he threw away the covers, exposing Maglor’s naked flesh between the parted folds of the long nightshirt and letting Maglor see his state of undress and arousal for the first time. Elrond didn’t wait to see Maglor’s reaction, instead he dipped down to kiss the pale, hairless skin he had discovered over Maglor’s chest. For the first time that night, Maglor tensed under his touch, a reaction of excitement or fear that Elrond had never before witnessed from him. Maglor had always been an unflappable, paternal presence, and for the first time Elrond could put his hands on him and see something else stir beneath the surface. It thrilled him and spurred him on, urging his wet, messy kisses to go lower and to linger, becoming bolder as he made his way down Maglor’s body. 

Suddenly Maglor hissed and his hand was in Elrond’s hair once more, but this time was nothing like the soft caresses Elrond had come to expect. Those long fingers tangled and pulled, making Elrond’s skull ache pleasantly and shivers run down his spine. In the tightness of Maglor’s grip he felt himself taken seriously - like an adult; like an equal.

“Elrond, stop!” Maglor whispered but the command sounded breathless and not very convincing and Elrond let his tongue flicker over the swell of lithe muscle around Maglor’s navel, holding his eyes the entire time. Maglor’s lashes flickered closed and his head tipped back, the fingers in Elrond’s hair only tightening.

“Please, Father - Maglor- “ Elrond corrected himself quickly, making Maglor choke a little on an aborted breath. “Let me just do this for you. Let me- I only want to - I want to-”

Elrond licked his lips. He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t say what he so desperately wanted to do, but Maglor seemed to know what the younger one wanted, because his other hand went down and covered his organ. 

“Elrond, don’t - you don’t have to do this-” Maglor gasped, his breaths coming fast. Elrond felt Maglor’s thighs tightening beneath him, the older elf's legs closing and the hand protecting his groin clutching harder. 

“I don’t want you to do this-” Maglor managed between laboured breaths but Elrond heard the lie in it.

“I want to, _Father_ ,” Elrond found the courage to say, and was not surprised by the little squeal that elicited from Maglor. Elrond was older and more intelligent than his guardian gave him credit for, and this time he called that name on purpose. “If you won’t allow anything else, at least please let me suck you off.”

Maglor shuddered, and made a little noise that was almost as horrified as it was excited.

“Where did you learn to say that -...” Maglor cut himself off with a breathless sigh. A glance at his face, showed that the paleness there was replaced with colour - an appealing blush dusted his high cheekbones, making him look younger and more innocent than an elf of his age and history had any right to be.

Elrond smirked to himself. He had learned from the other elves in Amon Ereb, of course. The soldiers and the smiths, the stable-hands - Elros and him had spent enough time amongst the common folk’s company to hear the lewd banter that passed between them in idle hours and to get a much clearer idea of what love and desire looked like, beyond the boring dusty old tomes of the Laws and Customs, which Maglor had presented them with some years before.

He dipped down and nuzzled his nose just above where Maglor’s hand still covered his member. He moved his lips teasingly in little kisses and nips there and flicked his tongue playfully over the musician’s fingers, wetting them a little and causing Maglor to shudder.

“Please, may I have a little bit, Father,” Elrond pleaded in a tone that was deliberately childish and innocent. “I promise, just a tiny taste…”

Elrond wasn't surprised that those words undid Maglor. He knew that his guardian was highly musical and that deliberate tone, the shameless lust behind the wording, the implications of it all - none of it was lost on him.

Maglor released his length and Elrond got but a brief glance at the Fëanorion’s erection before a long-fingered hand pinched his chin and held him in place.

“This is wrong…” Maglor moaned, the hands that were holding Elrond back were shaking precariously with the battle he waged with himself. 

Elrond’s hands were free and the young half-elf was no longer afraid to use them. Gently, he slid them underneath Maglor’s parted nightshirt and caressed his way to the junction of Maglor's long legs. His guardian let out another shaky exhale and his hold loosened just a bit, encouraging Elrond in his exploration and the youth tentatively wrapped a hand around Maglor’s erection and pumped it slowly. 

Maglor let out a moan and lost his hold on Elrond. His hands fell to the covers instead, clutching the sheets at his sides in surrender. 

Taking that as all the permission he was going to get, Elrond dipped his head down and parted his lips. He took the tip of Maglor’s length with a bated breath, heart thundering in his ears and a throbbing need in the flesh between his own legs. 

Maglor groaned in a manner that sounded nearly pained. He seemed too embarrassed to look at Elrond - his eyes scrunched shut and his chin tipped to the side. Elrond was as ever eager to please him and he speared his lips on the thick organ, taking as much of him as he comfortably could. His technique was sloppy and questionable at best, leaving his mouth and Maglor’s crotch squeakily wet and messy with the youth’s saliva, but it seemed to be sufficient to reduce Maglor to helpless wriggling. 

The sounds Maglor made in his chest and throat were too hot for Elrond to hold back, and he reached down his own body. He took himself in hand and jerked himself off so quickly that it almost hurt. It took only a few strokes before he was cumming with his mouth still wrapped around Maglor’s cock. 

Elrond’s eyes slid shut in a bone-rattling orgasm - the hardest one he had ever had - and moaned breathlessly around Maglor’s shaft as he lost himself in the act, milking his pleasure to the very last drop.

When he was done, he was reeling and way past caring about the mess he had made on the borrowed bed. Maglor’s erection slipped from his mouth and he fell over his guardian’s lap, rested his temple on Maglor’s leg and panted. 

Slowly regaining himself, Elrond blinked up to see Maglor peering down at him with a look that was equal amounts fatherly adoration and lust. The darkness of his dilated pupils was enough to stir Elrond’s young blood and he felt himself getting hard again.

Maglor reached down grasping Elrond beneath the armpits and dragged him up like a child to deposit him in the space next to his own long body. 

“Are you satisfied now, my dear heart?” he sighed into Elrond’s hair and leaned over to kiss the top of his head. 

Elrond’s half-hard organ gave an interested jolt despite his recent release. The sight of Maglor, the feel of his long hair and the smell of the older elf’s sweat - Elrond’s body was aching again and he shook his head with a breathless huff.

“Can I please have some more?” he whispered.

Maglor chuckled and Elrond reached his hand to cup the Fëanorion’s jaw, guiding Maglor's gaze down to look into the youth’s grey eyes. Their eyes met briefly before Maglor looked away as if stung. He lied back down flat on his back and his hand took Elrond’s, guiding it down. Elrond’s heart leapt in excitement when he realised what Maglor wanted, and he eagerly followed the downwards trajectory until his fingers once again wrapped around Maglor’s shaft. 

It was still moist with Elrond’s saliva and it squeaked when the young half-elf fisted it tightly and began to pump in a slow, measured pace, wishing to keep his guardian in a state of blissful need for as long as he could and listen to the sinful noises that fell from Maglor's lips.

“Elrond…” Maglor breathed his name in that voice that made Elrond ache. Then he tilted his head back, eyes closed, and exposed his long neck invitingly. Elrond was upon it in an instant, kissing and licking the salty beads of sweat feverently even as his hand kept it’s maddeningly steady rhythm on Maglor’s length.

“Faster…” Maglor sighed and there was power in his voice, a tantalising note that reduced Elrond to panting and his organ to a leaking, throbbing mess against his stomach. 

Still, Elrond didn’t oblige him, hearing the urgency in Maglor’s breaths he slowed down his hand, dragging out each caress, until the older elf was lifting his hips into his touch, trying to fuck Elrond’s fist. The sounds he made caressed Elrond from the ears all the way down to the hardness of his prick and he rutted against Maglor’s side, letting the sleekness of his earlier release make his pleasure soar.

“Only if you ask nicely,” he whispered in Maglor’s ear.

Maglor uttered a single, broken plea, his voice so raw and powerful that it sent Elrond over the edge again. 

He finished quickly, painting Maglor’s hip and stomach with his semen before he collapsed next to the older elf in utter exhaustion. 

Maglor wrapped a hand around his own cock and leaned down to kiss Elrond, his clever tongue exploring the youth’s mouth until he found his own release with a sigh of satisfaction.

“Was that… alright, Father?” Elrond asked once they had both regained their breaths.

Maglor’s kisses returned to his forehead and the arm that wrapped around Elrond was back to the soothing touch of a parent.

“It was perfect, my sweet young one,” he murmured against Elrond’s hair. “You are perfect and I know that someone is going to be very lucky to have you when the time comes.”

Elrond’s heart sunk.

“Someone… but not you?” he forced between the closing walls of his throat.

“Elrond,” Maglor looked into his eyes. “I love you, perhaps more than a father should love his son. That's why I must protect you. You were not meant for me.”

Not long after those words, Elrond was out of the bed and the room, fighting his tears until he was out of sight.

…

Sunrise found him returning to his own chambers where Elros was getting changed after his early-morning training with Maedhros.

“Guess who finally kicked Maedhros’ ass!” Elros boasted once he saw his brother entering their shared room.

Elrond didn't have to reply for Elros to produce a long sword and hold it up for his twin to witness.

“Narsil!” Elros announced beaming with pride. “The Fire’s White Flame - now mine!”

Despite his morose mood, the sword in his twin’s hand caught Elrond’s attention.

“Maedhros gave you his sword?”

“Gave it!? No.” Elros grinned and swung the blade to the ceiling. “Lost it is what he did! He wagered his sword to me once, said that I could have it if I ever managed to beat him. This morning I did!”

Elrond plopped on his bed bonelessly.

“Well, congratulations,” he said without much enthusiasm.

“That's all?! Aren't you going to ask me how I did it?” Elros demanded, quickly traversing the space and sitting on the edge of his brother’s bed, blade still in his hand. Elrond had little illusion that Elros was going to let go of his prised possession any time soon. 

“How did you do it?” Elrond asked mechanically.

“Well,” Elros ran a hand through his hair, “to be honest, the old sod seemed a little tired today, but he admitted my victory was fairly won, because as he always says, when the enemy comes, they won’t care if you are prepared and… are you listening?”

Elros looked at his brother critically and seemed to notice Elrond’s exhaustion for the first time.

“Why do you have this face, and where were you last night?” he asked. 

When Elrond didn't answer, realisation dawned on Elros’s face.

“Don't tell me you actually went to Maglor!” 

“I did,” Elrond answered tiredly.

“And what happened? Did he reject you? Wait, of course he did! But what did he say?” Elros spoke quickly, worry and horror mixing on his face.

“He said that they are going to send us away soon,” Elrond announced hopelessly. “And that it was not meant to be.”

Elros bit his lip nervously.

“I'm glad he finally told you,” he said and Elrond’s eyebrows shot up.

“What do you mean finally told me?!” he demanded. “Did you know?”

“Yes, I did. Maedhros told me some time ago,” Elros confessed. “He thinks it's for the best and for once I agree with him.”

“And you didn't think to tell me?”

“I knew that you would take it poorly. And again I agreed with Maedhros that it was Maglor’s job to break it to you,” Elros frowned. 

“Yeah, well… Good that he did, I guess,” Elrond growled. “I can’t stand either of them anymore! I want to be gone from this place soon as possible!” 

Elros gave him a dubious look.

“I thought that you wouldn't want to go.”

“Really? Well, I do! I want to be rid of them, especially of Maglor!” Elrond’s voice was breaking and there were tears in his eyes so he flipped over, giving Elros his back.

“Elrond,” Elros’ voice and the hand that he put on his twin’s shaking shoulder were gentle. “What happened?”

Elrond kept sobbing without relief. Elros rubbed his back a little awkwardly and let him cry for a while.

“I… I went to him and…” Elrond begun explaining, without turning. Elros didn’t interrupt even as his sentences were punctured with sobs and long pauses. “We spoke. I was in bed with him. It was hot… I got naked and -.”

Elros was frowning but Elrond didn't look up to see it.

“He told me that they are thinking of sending us away… I wanted to make him understand… how I feel…” Elrond choked out. “So I…”

“Don’t tell me...” Elros’ voice trailed off with a warning.

Elrond nodded wordlessly his confession. 

“And he still… still wants to send me away!” Elrond gasped before beginning to weep in earnest.

“Are you telling me that you…” Elros found his voice with difficulty.

Elrond nodded miserably.

“Elrond!” his twin shouted. “What were you thinking?! I can't believe you fucked our Fa- Maglor!”

“I told you I would!” Elrond shouted back, his frustration temporarily overcoming the sadness.

“No!” Elros shook his head disbelievingly. “I don’t even… You know what, I hope we are mortal! I don’t think I can live with so much madness for the rest of eternity.”

His twin turned around and marched over to the other side of the room where he quickly began gathering a few belongings in a satchel. A little disturbed Elrond sat up, looking after him.

“Don’t say things like that!” He protested. “Of course we are immortal - don’t even joke about such things!”

“Yeah, yeah…” Elros said and headed for the door. 

“Elros!” Elrond called but when his brother turned he didn’t know what to say.

“I will be downstairs,” Elros said. He headed for the door and then paused again. “I told you I wouldn't give you my shoulder to cry on if you did this.”

Elrond nodded as stoically as he could, watching his twin leave.

“You are an idiot, brother, but I hope you feel better soon,” Elros said quietly as he closed the door behind himself.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Kenaz for beta-reading this fic <3
> 
> Although not canon-accurate, Narsil passing from Maedhros to Elros and then all the way to Aragorn is my personal favourite headcanon of the Silmarillion and I couldn't resist adding it here.


End file.
